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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29734932">I think my ways are wearing me down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusedTraveler/pseuds/confusedTraveler'>confusedTraveler</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hiveswap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Kinda?, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:40:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,964</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29734932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusedTraveler/pseuds/confusedTraveler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ardata Carmia’s powers don’t work on Marsti Houtek.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marsti Houtek/Ardata Carmia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(title is from Brand New City by Mitski)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Casting a lead for her newest production had been almost embarrassingly easy this time around. Normally it took a little convincing- a little deception, a little threatening, perhaps a touch of flattery depending on the person- with just the tiniest nudge of psychic persuasion to soften their resolve.</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t always work, of course. Some “candidates” were simply too wary, darting away as soon as they saw the cerulueanblood approaching them on the street, the start of a greeting twisting her black-painted lips.</p><p> </p><p>But Ardata knew what she was doing. She hadn’t stayed alive in this profession all these sweeps on accident. She knew Outglut’s darkest corners inside and out, knew how to spot loneliness and misery on a troll from over a dozen meters away. How to dig her claws into their achy-breaky little hearts and tell them what they needed to hear. It was always so much more <em>satisfying</em> when they came willingly. And once they crossed the threshold, it was over. Her favorites were the ones who hadn’t even realized that they’d entered a spider’s web, not until they reached the bottom of the basement steps.</p><p> </p><p>She was <em>very</em> proud of herself. So, it was almost a little bit disappointing how easy it was to snag the rustblood girl. All she’d had to do was call out to her when she saw the janitor wheeling her cart past the hive, asking if she’d been looking for work.</p><p> </p><p>The noisy clacking-rattling of the janitor’s cart had immediately stopped, and the figure behind it had turned to look up at where Ardata stood in the doorway of her hive, smirking.</p><p> </p><p>The pale yellow glow of a nearby streetlamp glinted off the lowblood’s goggles. The expression beneath them was impassive, but when she spoke there was something in that flat monotone that sounded almost pleased.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She had to admit, the speed at which the burgundy had accepted to enter the hive threw her a <em>little</em> off-guard. Just a little, though. After all, she was a professional entertainer! It would be unthinkable for the likes of <em>her</em> to choke up and miss the unexpected opportunity that had dropped directly into her lap, even if she <em>was</em> totally unprepared and still clad in an ablution robe and house slippers.</p><p> </p><p>Ardata quickly whisked the janitor into the hive, prattling idly about stains and mysterious noises in the walls to mask the nearly soundless click of dozens of locking mechanisms within the door activating the instant it closed behind them. From there, it was only a simple matter of feigning lightheadedness and pretending to knock over a small table, which hit the floor with a <em>CRACK</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ve been feeling absolutely <em>terrible</em> tonight.”  She wails, throwing a hand to her head. “I’m just going to lie down and rest in my respiteblock. In the meanwhile, <em>you</em> can just go on and get started. There are three floors, each with sixteen rooms, and—”</p><p> </p><p>She went on for a bit, purposefully planning out a room-to-room cleaning route that would take the janitor the most possible time to complete- plenty of time for Ardata to get dressed and start setting up her streaming equipment.</p><p> </p><p>Throughout the explanation, the burgundy said nothing— <em>good</em>, thought the spider, a gutterblood who knows their place— but didn't express any emotion, either. Still, Ardata could have sworn that the longer the list of chores went on, the more happiness seemed to radiate off of the other troll, the flat line of her mouth lifting by the most miniscule of angles. It gave her the creeps.</p><p> </p><p>“—and there’s a basement room near the kitchen. You can take care of that <em>after</em> you’re done with the second-floor lampshade dusting.  Is all that alright? Can your poor little head handle all that?”</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t suppress a smirk, even though she was specifically trying not to scare them away, not just yet. It was always worth it to see the beginnings of that fear and paranoia seeping into someone else’s eyes, building up until there was just a thin thread of rationality holding them together, and then—</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh. Well, that’s it, she supposed. Figures that a gutterblood who gets off cleaning up garbage would be dull in the head too. She’d <em>have</em> to be, to still be this calm. Although Ardata worked hard (read: called a cleaning drone service twice a sweep) to keep her dwellings clean, there are only so many wounded, thrashing bodies you can drag across the floor and back to the basement before the wood begins to darken with a permanent stain.</p><p> </p><p>So she left the burgundy to it. Victory already swelling in her bloodpusher, she flew up the stairs and into her robingblock to get changed. Already she was constructing the scene within her mind: intro, footage from the camera over the door showing the stupid, gullible little lowblood eagerly accepting the invitation to clean her hive. (Ardata made a mental note to edit the footage so the sight of her stood there in an ablutionrobe with her hair up wouldn’t be part of the finished flick.) A few shots of her cleaning using the cameras in the hall and nutritionblock. And <em>then,</em> the penultimate scene, the fateful moment, when the burgundy set foot into the basement, the final location she’d been asked to clean, and saw what was waiting for her there…</p><p> </p><p>Ardata found herself grinning as she pictured that cinema-perfect moment- the shocked gaze, the absolute bafflement on the victim’s face, then absolute terror as she <em>finally</em> realized just how much in deep shit she was in. Camera zoom on the face, focus, really capture that sinking despair in the eyes. Hold it there. Dramatic shift in the background music. <em>Perfect</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Except no, wait, she realized, frowning. Her hands stalled where they were putting the final touches to her outfit, doing up the little clasps on her shawl. It wouldn’t be perfect, because those shitty fucking <em>goggles</em> would be in the way. Damn scum, always making her job harder. Couldn’t <em>anything</em> go her way, honestly? It was almost enough to make her shed a tear or three.</p><p> </p><p>But alas! The show must go on. Ardata sighed and took one last look at herself in the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>She’d already decided she wouldn’t be livestreaming this time— getting the prey had been <em>far</em> too quick this time around for her to already have an elaborate concept in mind. So, just regular old slow torture for tonight, pre-recorded and edited later. A little bland, not to mention a <em>little</em> too close for comfort to the kinds of content she was seeing in the trending tab of GrubTube these days, but she’d recently gotten her hands on some <em>very</em> interesting new tools, ones sure to give her an edge (heheh &gt;:.) ) where entertainment value and creativity were concerned.</p><p> </p><p>Her lusus wouldn’t be participating tonight, too engorged from the previous day’s feed to get out of bed. It would definitely be quieter performance tonight, and so Ardata dressed for the occasion, zipping herself into a silky, floor-length sleeveless black dress. The shawl she clasped over it was a bit more elaborate, also black but with three gold clasps holding it closed at the front and swirling patterns of webs embroidered across it.</p><p> </p><p>She slipped into a pair of matching flats and walks to the door, listening briefly before stepping back out into the hall. There was the distinct squeaking of the janitor’s cart off in the distance, around the second floor, by the sound of it. Good. She still had plenty of time.</p><p> </p><p>The ceruleanblood scuttled gracefully down to the ground floor of her hive and made a beeline for the basement. She spent a good twenty or so minutes setting up, most of which was the exasperating ordeal of trying to find batteries for the electricity-powered tools. They always ran out so <em>fast</em>, and it didn't help that most of the new stuff she’d bought online were battery-powered. Besides that, the rest of the preparation was fairly easy- making sure the straps on the table weren’t too worn-down, adjusting the lighting, polishing the camera lens, sweeping up some bone fragments, and so on and so forth.</p><p> </p><p>Ardata had to admit, she wasn’t really looking too forward to this. Stuff like this, modest little snuff flicks just to keep the bills paid, never really did it for her. What she liked was a <em>spectacle.</em> The most she’d probably be getting out of the burgundy still puttering around upstairs was a couple thousand views, maybe more.</p><p> </p><p>Speaking of whom…</p><p> </p><p>The faint squeaking of wheels from above told her it was almost time. Quickly, Ardata switched off all the lights in the dungeon except the bright light directly above the table to which her victim would be strapped, so that it would be the first thing the janitor saw upon entering the basement. She fretted for a moment as to where she should stand, ultimately picking a spot in the shadows behind the head of the table. She took a deep breath, tugged her face into a well-practiced smirk, and slipped one hand into the pocket of her dress to press a button on the small remote control there to start the cameras.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Action. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>For a few moments or so, she waited. There was a faint shuffling from somewhere above, and then, a series of <em>incredibly</em> loud clack-thunks, one after the other, exactly like the wheels of a cleaning cart being dragged unceremoniously down a flight of stairs.</p><p> </p><p>Ardata’s smirk cracked momentarily into a scowl. She’d have to take extra time to edit <em>that</em> out later. For what seemed like a very convenient catch, this video was beginning to feel like a long series of inconveniences. But if the <em>rest</em> could just go smoothly, well, she could have filming wrapped up in a couple of hours and still have plenty of time left to relax.</p><p> </p><p>The basement door opened. In stepped the janitor, looking about the same as she first had upon entering the hive. From her hidden position the cerulean watched as the burgundy walked in, looked around the darkened room (yes, good, be confused by the ambiguity), looking at the illuminated table with its straps and the little buckles gleaming wickedly in the spotlight (perfect, alright, just drink it in for a moment, realize something’s wrong here) then looking up. It was then that Ardata stepped forward, standing just within the glowing halo of the spotlight, so that the light cast eerie shadows across her face and glittered on her exposed fangs.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hello.”</em> said the spider to the fly, smiling oh-so-graciously.</p><p> </p><p>No reaction.</p><p> </p><p>The corner of Ardata’s mouth twitched. This lowblood must be one of the <em>really</em> dull-witted ones to not know she’s in danger by now.</p><p> </p><p>She continued, without missing a beat, “I must admit, I’m a little impressed with the speed with which you worked today. You’ve done some <em>excellent</em> work today, for a rustblood.” Ardata placed a hand on the surface of the table, smoothing over its surface, and lifted the other to the lowblood, crooking one elegant, black-painted nail in a come-hither motion. “You must be <em>so</em> tired, aren’t you, you weak little thing? Why don’t you come and <strong><em>take a rest</em><em>?”</em></strong></p><p> </p><p>With those final words, the cerulueanblood’s tone changed, an intoxicating sickly-sweet venom dripping through each and every syllable as a wave of psychic force is launched directly at the other troll, a wall of overwhelming force crooning <em>sleep, sleep, my darling, it’s safe here, you’re alright.</em> Ardata felt it make contact, smiled in knowing satisfaction, and turned to get her tools.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>The words were flat and monotone in their inflection, and yet they slammed into Ardata with the force of a train.</p><p> </p><p>She froze, hand stalled in the air where she was reaching for the handle attached to the small cart on which the torture tools rested. Her brows furrowed in disbelief. She turned on her heel, expecting to see the lowblood peasant already laying on the table, blank-eyed and obedient. What she saw <em>instead</em> was the peasant in the exact same place as she had been, dunking her mop briskly into the tank of cleaning chemicals at the back of her cart.</p><p> </p><p> <em>What…?</em></p><p> </p><p>She could not process at all what had happened. Hadn’t she… Was she imagining things, now? Had she been so absent-minded about the whole thing that she’d only <em>thought</em> she had activated her psychic abilities? Or perhaps so scatterbrained that her focus had slipped and failed to envelop the other troll’s mind completely?</p><p> </p><p>An uncomfortable warmth crept up her neck. She hadn’t had psychic slip-ups since she was a grub. Good thing she wasn’t livestreaming today.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t bother to repeat the line about laying down; it had been a lukewarm ad-lib at best. Instead she cut right to the chase. The ceruleanblood set her three eyes on the figure of the janitor turned away from her and concentrated, hearing a familiar low buzzing in her ears. She pictured her sign, fizzing a sharp crackling blue above her forehead, and sent her mind zooming directly towards the rustblood’s.</p><p> </p><p>It was because she was focusing so hard that she actually <em>felt</em> it this time— a sudden feeling of unsteadiness, like the floor had shifted beneath her oh-so-slightly. Then, without warning, a sudden numbness as the psychic force radiating from her dissipated completely.</p><p> </p><p>Ardata stood there, frozen, staring at her intended prey with all three eyes blown wide open. She watched as the rustblood methodically scrubbed at the basement floor, utterly unaffected by the mental barrage raining down upon her, telling her to submit, to fall, to sleep, to die. She did not a one of those things, nor did she even seem to notice.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually the janitor turned back to her cart to dunk the mop again, and as she did so, noticed the cerulean staring at her from the other side of the room.</p><p> </p><p>There was a moment of silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Something wrong?” asked the burgundy, and Ardata wanted to</p><p> </p><p>she wanted to</p><p> </p><p>to</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t know. Scream, maybe? Only she didn’t think she could, her bellowsacs were frozen and tight in her thorax and she couldn’t feel her legs. Her hands were too cold but her face felt hot, suddenly, and she couldn’t explain why, nor why any of <em>this</em> could possibly be happening.</p><p> </p><p>It <em>couldn’t </em>be happening. Something like this wouldn’t happen to her<em>.</em> She must have been dreaming. She wasn’t <em>here</em>, standing in the middle of her dungeon, frozen and absurd and utterly fucking powerless.</p><p> </p><p>Hazily, she saw the gutterblood repeat the question. Once again, all three of her eyes snapped to the other, and through the sound she realized was her bloodpusher pounding and the dizzying mortification setting her face ablaze she saw what looked like <em>concern</em> in that placid expression.</p><p> </p><p>How dare she. How <em>dare</em> she.</p><p> </p><p>So she tried again. Stupid, now that the surprise factor was gone and the setup was ruined and with the cleaner looking at her like <em>that</em>, no good for the cameras, no good for the views, but for Ardata, it wasn’t about that anymore. The cameras might as well have not existed.</p><p> </p><p>The world shrank to just her and that <em>thing</em> standing in her dungeon, just <em>looking</em> at her with those stupid goggles and stupid flat expression, the mop in her hand dripping onto the tile somewhere in the distance. The ceruleanblood imagined her psychic power as a coiling snake, fangs bared and dripping venom, rearing its head back to strike, a focus trick she hadn’t needed in years but felt necessary to use in the moment. Condensing herself into a thin, deadly cord, Ardata hurled herself at the other’s mind.</p><p> </p><p>The fangs didn’t even snag this time. What happened was the psychic equivalent of colliding skull-first with a steel-plated wall. Fire immediately exploded across her line of sight, and she shrieked once before blacking out.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Ardata Carmia woke up slowly, and with great reluctance. Her head throbbed dully, not as intense as the stabbing pain she’d dreamed earlier, but still enough to make opening her eyes an ordeal. A low groan escaped her, and she curled up a little more tightly in the sopor slime, willing herself to go back to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>A few minutes passed, and she found herself unable to drift off. She rolled over in the slime and slowly forced herself into a sitting position, head and shoulders breaching the surface of the gel. Slowly, she cracked open one eye, then the other, then the other after that one.</p><p> </p><p>Immediately several details jumped out at her. For one, it wasn’t night. The blackout curtains over her respiteblock windows were pulled shut, a yellow glow shining from around their edges. The soft whirring of the hive’s auto-cooling systems could be heard faintly even through her pounding headache.</p><p> </p><p>None of this wouldn’t be too strange on its own- she’d had her share of days where sleep was difficult even buried in slime, when she’d wake up in the middle of the morning unable to go back to sleep. No, what was strange about <em>this</em> situation was that she couldn’t remember ever going to bed in the first place. And her clothes…why wasn’t she wearing her daygown? She would never wear ilkworm-silk fabric to sleep, and this dress—</p><p> </p><p>When was it she had last worn this dress?</p><p> </p><p>Ardata could feel herself beginning to panic. She grasped the edges of the cocoon and dragged herself fully out of the slime. She knew <em>something</em> was wrong here, something to do with her dream, the memory just out of reach, and she had to find out exactly what it was. <em>Something</em> had happened to her.</p><p> </p><p>She hauled her legs over the edge of the recuperacoon and placed one foot shakily on the floor of her respiteblock.</p><p> </p><p>The highblood immediately crumpled to the floor. Her head was spinning, the pain no longer dulled by the sopor slime coming back at full intensity. A weak sob escaped her before she could stop it.</p><p> </p><p>Ardata was on the verge of passing out when she heard the sound of rapid footsteps, then the sound of a door opening. She saw, through blurred vision threefold, a pair of legs stopping in front of her, the sound of someone murmuring unintelligibly. Then, a sudden pressure behind her knees and back, followed by a frightening feeling of weightlessness that was quickly replaced with the familiar, soothing balm of sopor slime. She sighed in relief as the incomprehensible pain in her head immediately stilled.</p><p> </p><p>She looked up, and was immediately met with the gaze of a stranger.</p><p> </p><p>The cerulueanblood girl shrieked on instinct, scrambling back so that her back was pressed against the far wall of the recuperacoon- which wasn’t far, admittedly, but at least it was <em>some</em> distance.</p><p> </p><p>The troll looking at her through the opening of the cocoon appeared unfazed by this, merely raising one eyebrow. It was difficult to make out their features at first, but as Ardata’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw a lean, heart-shaped face and long curved horns that seemed vaguely familiar. Their eyes were sharp, with deep lines and dark circles beneath them.</p><p> </p><p>On their forehead rested a pair of goggles, with red, circular glass lenses.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>YOU!!!”</em> Ardata screamed, pointing an accusatory finger at the other troll.</p><p> </p><p>The janitor- because that was who it was, of course- blinked a few times, but otherwise did not respond.  </p><p> </p><p>“You…” The ceruluean’s arm began to tremble and slowly lowered as the true nature of her situation began to clarify itself to her—or rather failed to do so, because none of this made any sense. “Why are you…what?”</p><p> </p><p>The burgundy waited patiently for her to trail off before speaking, tone blunt and matter-of-fact. “You shouldn’t get up so soon. You collapsed from psychic fatigue some time ago. You’ll need at least a few more hours in mind rejuvenation sopor before you can start moving again.”</p><p> </p><p>Now that she mentioned it, Ardata became aware of the fact that there was something different about the sopor, the usual cloying sweetness replaced with something more subdued, with chemical undertones. Of course, that knowledge brought her no relief, only more confusion.</p><p> </p><p>None of this was right. Everything that happened in the dungeon didn’t make sense. The events as they played out in her mind- her, trying repeatedly to use her powers, the “janitor”, somehow perfectly unaffected- felt like a faraway dream, hazy and unreal. What <em>was</em> real was the situation she found herself in now, trapped in her recuperacoon, weak and defenseless beneath the cool gaze of her would-be victim. The conclusion seemed inevitable.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” she spat, ignoring the wobble in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>A long silence. Ardata found herself unable or unwilling to meet the rustblood’s eye, glaring ruefully down at the carpet until the other finally spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“I should, shouldn’t I.”</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t an answer, either, just the observation of one who understood the situation as clearly as she did.</p><p> </p><p>The silence that fell over the two of them was heavy enough to sink an imperial orphaner’s entire fleet.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Marsti Houtek wondered how she got here.</p><p> </p><p>More specifically, she wondered at herself. She understood, of course, how she came to be standing in the middle of a stranger’s respiteblock while said stranger cowers in her recuperacoon and shoots her angry, fearful glances at her every now and then. She remembered every action she had taken up until that point.</p><p> </p><p>What she didn’t fully understand was why, and it irked her, like the persistent prickling of a splinter beneath her skin, too sharp to be ignored but too small to dig out with her claws.</p><p> </p><p>She took a deep breath and released it in a long sigh. Out of the corner of her eye, the cerulueanblood flinched at the sound.</p><p> </p><p>The job was a trap, she reasoned. She’d <em>known</em> it was, because she had been thinking it all the way up to the front door. The rustblood had only just finished her first job of the night, too early for exhaustion to have clouded her senses to the extent where she wouldn’t have noticed all the locks on the inside of the door or the naked malice in the highblood’s eyes. Nothing to dull every one of her instincts screaming <em>go, run, beg for mercy, get away.</em></p><p> </p><p>So why <em>had</em> she come in?</p><p> </p><p>Marsti wasn’t sure.</p><p> </p><p>She looked down at her hands, numbly, the worn gloves stained a faint aqua from when she’d mixed the rejuvenation fluid into the sopor and some of it had splashed out. In her mind’s eye she saw the body of the cerulueanblood splayed out across the basement floor, twitching slightly.</p><p> </p><p><em>That</em> should have been what brought her back to her senses. There she was, standing in a torture dungeon, her captor incapacitated through some unbelievable stroke of luck. That was her chance! If she ran then, she could probably escape through one of the windows before the highblood got up. Then she would just have to lay low for a while in case the highblood sent drones after her. It would be hard, but she had some emergency food stores (read: a few vegetables and half a bag of rice) to last her a little while before she could leave her apartment safely again. She might need to change up her appearance, just in case, but after that she could get right back to work, and—</p><p> </p><p>All of these thoughts had run through her mind, there in the basement. For a good two minutes, Marsti had stood there, letting that train of thought run through her mind over and over before shutting it down completely.  </p><p> </p><p>She was so <em>fucking</em> tired.</p><p> </p><p>The rustblood allowed her consciousness to return to the present moment. The ostentatious clock on the ceruleanblood’s wall (she didn’t even know her <em>name,</em> hadn’t even given thought to the fact that the other troll never gave her one, that’s how little she’d cared) read 10:14 in the morning. Too late to go out without a sunproof umbrella, and hers had broken a week ago. All she could do was wait, now. And if the highblood recovered enough to kill her before the sun went down…well.</p><p> </p><p>She liked to think she’d put up a fight if that happened, but honestly, she wasn’t so sure.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ardata kept an eye on the lowblood for as long as she could, waiting for any sign that she was going to kill her. In the very short time she’d known her, the other troll had been proved almost impossible to read, and her actions thus far had been completely incomprehensible. You never knew what someone like that would do, the cerulean reasoned to herself, glaring at the rustblood’s back from just above the slime.</p><p> </p><p>It got boring fairly quick, however. All the burgundy <em>did</em> was stand around and sigh once or twice. What's more, even her <em>sighs</em> were hard to read, just a flat exhalation of air. Ardata closed her eyes as her skull began to pound again and sunk a little deeper into the slime. She <em>wasn’t</em> sleeping, she was just resting her eyes for a few minutes.</p><p> </p><p>When she snapped awake, everything was still dark, which was both good and bad, since it meant she hadn’t slept too long but also that she couldn’t see anything, as her eyes hadn’t adjusted yet.</p><p> </p><p>“A-Are you still there?” she called out instinctively, immediately cringing at how fearful and desperate her voice sounded. Stupid. The dirtblood was waiting to <em>kill</em> her; drawing her attention was the last thing she should be doing.</p><p> </p><p>Footsteps, then a shifting of fabric. Ardata could just barely make out a shadowy figure crouch by the opening of the recuperacoon and suppressed the urge to shudder.</p><p> </p><p>“How are you feeling?” the figure asked, quietly.</p><p> </p><p>The cerulean automatically opened her mouth to tell the other that she felt significantly better than before, actually, before realizing what she was doing and snapping it shut. Why should she freely offer up information to a potential enemy? That would be idiotic.</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you still here?” she snarled instead.</p><p> </p><p>At this point her vision had adjusted enough that she could see the burgundyblood do that thing that involved blinking at her slowly with an absolutely flat expression and making her feel like an idiot. “It’s midday. I don’t have any way to leave.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well…you…why are you still in <em>my</em> respiteblock, then? If you’re not going to kill me?” That last part came out a lot more beseeching in tone than Ardata would’ve liked.</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t. I was…out in the hall. Waiting. In case you needed something.”</p><p> </p><p>The other troll faltered, briefly, and like a shark lusus scenting blood in the water, the ceruleanblood homed in on it, sensing a tiny crack in that emotionless mask. With focus threefold she studied the burgundy troll, spotting little details that hadn’t been there before.</p><p> </p><p>For one, she was wearing a different pair of gloves than before, made of thick blue rubber. Her goggles were further back on her head, like they’d been shoved up hurriedly, and emanating from her was the faint smell of soap, almost as though-</p><p> </p><p>“Have you been <em>cleaning?!?” </em>Ardata shrieked in disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>“ …………… -_- ”</p><p> </p><p>“What the <em>fuck! </em>You <em>just </em>finished everything earlier, are you insane???<em>”</em></p><p> </p><p>“…just wanted to make sure…” the other troll mumbled, no longer meeting Ardata’s gaze.</p><p> </p><p>The cerulueanblood burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it. This whole situation was already so absurd, and the mental image of the burgundyblood dejectedly re-cleaning the same sink for the third or fourth time to cope while <em>she</em> was sitting terrified in her recuperacoon was too funny and pathetic to bear.</p><p> </p><p>Ardata wiped the tears from her eyes in time to see the rustblood’s mouth twitching slightly at the edges as she too, no doubt, realized how extremely fucking weird it all was.</p><p> </p><p>For some reason, the sight made her feel warm.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“I’ll let you go.”</p><p> </p><p>Marsti’s attention snapped back to the cerulueanblood at those words. <em>What?</em></p><p> </p><p>It sounded too good to be true. She’d tried the only door while her captor was out (she’d already been polishing it, so might as well check if she could open it while she was there, right?) to no avail.</p><p> </p><p>“On <em>one</em> condition.”</p><p> </p><p>Of course.</p><p> </p><p>The cerulueanblood looked a lot better, now. She was still sitting with her back against the far wall of the recuperacoon, but now her posture was much more controlled, shoulders back, chin lifted ever so slightly, three half-lidded eyes gazing directly at her.</p><p> </p><p>“What condition?” she asked, because why the hell not. If it was her internal organs or something, the end result would be more or less the same as if she didn’t take the deal.</p><p> </p><p>“You must tell me how you resisted my psychic control.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh. Uh.</p><p> </p><p>“…Your what?”</p><p> </p><p>The highblood remained composed for the most part, but her eyes narrowed and perfect eyebrows furrowed slightly. “My <em>psychic mind control powers, </em>wretch. How did you resist them?”</p><p> </p><p>Marsti sensed danger. Nonetheless, she answered honestly. Lying to save her skin felt useless at this point.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>Rather than lash out, the highblood merely huffed and crossed her arms. “Disappointing. Well, I suppose we can always try again once I’ve recovered. <em>If </em>that’s alright with you,” she added.</p><p> </p><p>Marsti blinked, once, slowly.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you…asking for my <em>permission</em>…to let you lure me back here another time…just so you can try and mind-control me again.”</p><p> </p><p>“If it’s not too much trouble…?”</p><p> </p><p>The ceruleanblood batted her eyelashes at her, and Marsti suppressed the urge to laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, why not.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I just think they're neat!</p>
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